As I am wont to do from time to time, I was recently visiting various
Robert E. Howard sites on the Web. Howard, as you almost certainly
know, was the Pulp-era author who brought us a plethora of two-fisted heroes
in the pages of Weird Tales, the most famous, of course, being Conan
the Cimmerian. A great many writers published in the Mighty PDF
have listed Howard as a major influence on their work and I myself run
a fan site
featuring reviews of most of his hero stories. During recent visits
to other Howard sites, I began to notice a common phrase popping-up with
remarkable regularity. Howard's heroes, we were told, were "all cut
from the same cloth".

Now, there's no doubt that, physically speaking, Howard's heroes did
display a monotonous conformity -- most were big, muscular, black haired
and blue-eyed. But, if they really were all "cut from the same cloth",
why is it that I enjoy the Conan tales more than anything else Howard wrote?
For that matter, why is Howard forever known as the "creator of Conan"?
Why not the "creator of Kull" or the "creator of El Borak"? Granted,
the difference may simply lie in the Conan tales being better written than
the tales featuring the other heroes -- the twenty-one Conan stories were
written late in Howard's all too brief career, after he had had time to
perfect his technique. On the other hand, the El Borak tales were
produced during the same period as Conan and are nearly as well written.
But, while I consider them a close second to the Conan tales, they remain
forever...a close second. And not really that close.

No, I think those who say all Howard's heroes were "cut from the same
cloth" are missing out on a vital lesson. Conan is different
from Howard's other heroes -- in fact, amongst the whole gang of Kull,
Bran Mak Morn, Cormac Mac Art, El Borak, Kirby O'Donnell, Solomon Kane,
etc., etc., I would say that Conan was unique, for Conan had one trait
which the others all lacked.

Conan liked girls.

Think about it. Can you imagine the brooding King Kull putting
aside the cares of Kingship to spend a night frolicking with a comely Valusian
maid? Wouldn't happen. Or the Gaelic sea-reiver, Cormac Mac
Art -- he might go to great lengths to avenge a woman's honour, but when
it came to appreciating their charms, he couldn't see past the horned helms
of his Viking compadres. And don't get me talking about Solomon
Kane. That dour Puritan would go literally to the ends of the earth
to rescue a fair damsel in distress, but when it came to noticing a pretty
face, he had a stick up his butt a mile wide. El Borak at least consorted
with the fairer sex from time to time, but he treated them with all the
affection he showed to his Afghan allies. We can imagine the conversations
Howard neglected to transcribe: "Of course, I like you, Yasmeena.
You're like a sister to me. What? What did I say?"

This difference between Conan and Howard's other heroes reminds me of
the similar difference to be found between Star Trek's Captain Kirk and
Captain Pike who was the hero originally intended to helm the Starship
Enterprise in the series' unaired pilot episode (later used, as all good
Trekkies know, in the episode "The Menagerie"). Captain Pike, when
tempted by the obvious charms of a green Orion slavegirl, reacted with
all the Puritanical disgust of a futuristic Cotton Mather. If he
had simply objected to the slavery angle, that we could have understood,
but Pike treated her like the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden...if
he had stepped on that fruit and was now trying to scrape it off his heel!
Now contrast that with Captain "anything with a pulse" Kirk. Kirk
too started out as all business, but it wasn't long before the show's producers
had him making goo-goo eyes on a fairly regular basis. They knew
what the audience wanted and they delivered. And Star Trek was the
better for it.

I repeat: Star Trek was the better for it. And so was Conan.

Now, I know there are plenty of you out there who would fiercely contest
those claims. Both the Conan fans and the Star Trek fans can be divided
up into those who like a little romance with their adventure and those
who feel it demeans the entire thing. A great many Conan fans --
particularly those who consider themselves serious "scholars" -- will tell
you Howard's "Beyond the Black River" was one of the best Conan stories
precisely because there was nary a comely wench in sight. Conversely,
there are those, like me, who feel it was a weaker offering for that very
same reason. To us, Conan is simply a lot more fun and laid back
when he's allowed to appreciate the fairer sex. Howard's other heroes
seem so fixated on being heroes, they have forgotten how to be human.
We can too easily imagine them as lonely, old, embittered men, gulping
down Tums by the fistful, and cursing their damned ulcers. But not
Conan. Conan seems content with his lot in life. So long as
he has a drinking jack in one hand and a lithesome maid on his knee, he's
in heaven. And, sure, there are faults to be found in such a lifestyle,
especially from the perspective of our modern AIDS-conscious era, but there's
a lot to admire about it too. It simply seems healthier, from an
emotional point of view. And, in the end, it makes for happier characters
and for more emotionally involving plots.

This brings me to my main point. Looking back over the many stories
which we have published since this mighty e-zine began -- whether serials
or Two-Fisted Tales or Shuddersome Shorts -- I find that there is a surprising
dearth of stories involving romance. I don't mean Romantic stories
-- this is an adventure e-zine, after all. I simply mean stories
which, like the Conan stories, allow the hero to appreciate the fairer
sex from time to time. That absence is all the stranger given that
romance was such a big feature of pulp fiction. There are those who
will tell you that "that mushy stuff" is "for girls". Real
men don't need sex! And yet, look at Edgar Rice Burroughs, the author
of the Tarzan books as well as several other fantasy series. No one
would deny that Burroughs appeals to the testosterone-inclined among us,
but romance was his bread and butter. John Carter of Mars had the
Incomparable Dejah Thoris. David Innes of Pellucidar had Dian the
Beautiful. Carson of Venus had his "mate" Duare. And, of course,
Tarzan had Jane. Smitten, every man-Jack of them. And, oh,
how the readers ate it up.

Or consider even the seemingly romance-less Doc Savage stories.
Apart from Doc's cousin, Pat, there were no regular or semi-regular female
characters in those stories, but attractive females still put in appearances
as either the victims, the witnesses or the perpetrators of crimes.
Doc himself never overtly indicated any appreciation for the opposite sex,
but, in the presence of said sex, he invariably became tongue-tied...and
we knew. Moreover, his side-kicks, Monk and Ham, went positively
goofy at the sight of a pretty face, especially Monk, who was surely the
most likeable -- most human -- of the bunch.

What I find most interesting about romance as presented in the Pulps
was the oddly contradictory way it was handled. On the one hand,
the Pulpsters sometimes seemed to have nothing on their mind but
sex. On the other hand, they went to amazing lengths to avoid actually
coming right out and saying so. For example, nudity was common, but
it was never explicitly described. You could search long and hard
and never find the word "nipple", or even the word "sex" for that matter.
But contrary to what critics might claim, this wasn't because of some deep
seated Freudian fear of womanly unmentionables. It was because, as
with all things, the Pulpsters were selling fantasy and, where fantasy
is concerned, less is often more. With the single word "supple" a
master like Howard could work miracles.

The one pulp form which still exists and in which sex still makes an
unapologetic appearance is the modern western -- specifically those series
westerns like the Trailsman books. But while I would heartily recommend
those books to anyone looking for unabashed modern pulp, I find myself
put off by their overly heavy use of sex. Basically the books read
like exciting Pulp westerns, but every now and then the entire thing screeches
to a halt for five or six pages of detailed -- extremely detailed
-- graphic bump-and-grind as the various characters get to know each other
in the Biblical sense. Obviously, whether you like that sort of thing
or not comes down to a matter of personal preference. But, as I said,
to me there is an appeal to the "less is more" philosophy. Like impressionist
paintings, the more we leave to the reader's imagination, the more magical
is the final result.

But why is romance so rare in modern pulp stories, including in the
pages of our own humble e-zine? I could spend an entire editorial
trying to answer that question -- the excuses are legion. Some critics
will say that romance is inherently sexist, reducing female characters
to mere "objects of desire" -- "sex objects". They will say that
such notions as "love at first sight" and "undying love" are archaic and
outmoded; the whole thing is a childish fantasy created by guys who can't
get laid. They will say a lot of things, but, in the end, it all
gets down to one thing. Embarrassment. Previously in
these editorials I have said that the main thing which keeps modern writers
from writing pulpy stories is a fear of embarrassment, a fear of appearing
childish in the eyes of the literary community. But however great
is that fear where pulp writing is concerned, it is a thousand times worse
where romantic pulp writing is concerned. When you describe
a beautiful woman in a story, you are working without a net. You
are revealing personal preferences and personal passions -- and, if the
readers laugh, they aren't just laughing at the story. They are laughing
at you. And that can hurt.

But, I hope, if I have gotten across any message with these editorials,
it is this. Life is too short to worry about what people think.
If you try it and it doesn't work, remember this quote from a Peanuts cartoon
my high school math teacher, Mrs. McCay, used to keep taped to the blackboard
-- "Two hundred years from now, who willl know the difference?"

On the other hand, it has been nearly a century since John Carter first
met Dejah Thoris under the hurtling moons of Mars. I'd lay pretty
good odds their romance will still be enjoyed by readers a century from
now. I don't know if such romantic nonsense is outmoded; I don't
know if it's sexist; I don't know if it's written by guys who couldn't
get laid. I just know it makes the story better.